


A Luxury Even I Cannot Afford

by Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat



Series: Tumblr Fics [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insomnia, Insomniac Tony Stark, POV First Person, POV Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 06:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat/pseuds/Write_Eat_Sleep_Repeat
Summary: It's late at night, and Tony can't sleep





	A Luxury Even I Cannot Afford

To say it’s early would be the biggest understatement I’ve ever said. Midnight has come and gone long ago, there are no noises from even the latest of night owls. They’ve all slept. 3:13 am. The light of the clock glares into my eyes to burn those numbers against my corneas. I turn onto my back and stare at the ceiling, my hands clasped together and resting on my stomach. With a deep sigh, I close my eyes and try again to sleep.

3:27. I give in and take out my phone. Mind numbing games, bright colours that will hurt my eyes eventually in the dark, soft noises of popping and falling objects and sickly sweet cheering that will take up my time for now. My fingers move fluidly across the touchscreen, dragging pink blocks to their kin and watching them disappear uselessly. I’m not tired, but logic dictates that I should be. I got hardly any sleep last night, and it seems I’ll have no sleep tonight. The morning will be hell. I play the game until my stomach growls, breaking my concentration and bringing me back to reality suddenly. My eyes ache, my arms are stiff, my fingers hurt. But I’m not tired. I lock my phone, place it haphazardly on the bedside table before I turn to stare at the ceiling yet again, and sigh. My hand runs across my face and stops at the glowing light on my chest. I’ve long since gotten used to the feeling of the metal whenever I shower, and the blue light shining under the covers. People don’t see it as it is. They see it through layers of clothing, or through the suit, or through drawings and plans. Pepper has seen it, so has Happy. Rhodey almost did but I covered it up. It’s not that I want it to be a secret, it’s that I don’t really want people to see that part of me. It’s the weak part, the trapped and scarred part that I need kept inside so that I keep up my reputation of the comic. I’m the fun guy with a joke for everything and the smartest idiot anyone has ever met, and that’s how I want people to keep seeing me. But I can’t sleep. It’s a curse, I guess, that even Howard had. He had called it the price of genius, the price of perfection, but he had many things that he blamed his intelligence for. I’ve picked up his vices, the worst ones, accidentally. The penchant for alcohol instead of therapy, womanising, obsessions that cause all thoughts of self-preservation to disappear. The very things I hated him for when I was growing up.

I shake my head to release the thoughts of my father that I know will eventually creep back in my next bout of insomnia. Pep told me that I should see someone about it, but I told her that I can deal with it. I don’t think I can, but pride is the root of all sin.

I try yet again. Eyes closed, body still, blank mind. Count to 100.  
1.  
2  
3  
4  
5

My eyes open again and I sigh.


End file.
